Waiting
by creativetherapy
Summary: With her best friend mysteriously off the grid and a troubling phone call from Spencer, Avery replays the events of the last four weeks to herself as she tries to make sense of the things Spencer couldn't tell her. Takes place over the course of several episodes of season 11, and Spencer's trip to Las Vegas. Part of my Spencer/ Avery arc. R/R appreciated.
1. 4 Weeks Ago

The train shushed rhythmically as it barreled down the tracks, swaying gently to and fro. Up till now, it had always been a comforting experience to Avery Mitchell, though now the combination of noise and motion played on her already fraying nerves. She battled the dull nausea, resting her head against the cool window pane while trying to fight back the headache creeping up the back of her neck. The events of the past few weeks played through her head and she attempted to unravel and sort them into a logical sequence of events; something she could wrap her mind around.

* * *

"Penelope called. She's going away?" Avery looked curiously at Spencer Reid through the open doorway to the small bedroom they shared, where the young agent stood as he untied his tie and hung it back in the wardrobe. The doctor said nothing.

"She didn't sound right, Spencer – what's going on?" She continued, tapping the corners of her mobile against her fingertips and watching his reaction intently.

Spencer measured the small action against what he knew of her habits and side-glanced his fiancee silently.

"Don't worry." He assured her gently.

Avery cocked her head, then glanced down at her hands, gripping the phone quickly and abruptly setting it on the narrow kitchen counter.

"She said she was traveling, but I don't believe that for a minute. She was scared." Avery continued, crossing the small kitchenette and standing in the bedroom doorway. "What's wrong?"

"You know, you should apply to the Academy." Spencer evaded, unbuttoning his vest. "You're a better profiler than you think."

"Spencer," She said quietly, moving toward him and standing at the wardrobe door as Spencer hung up his vest and reached for a sweater "What's going on?"

Spencer looked down at her upturned face, meeting her gaze. He could read her concern as plainly in her forest eyes as he could hear it in her voice. He sighed.

"I can't really talk about it." He said honestly, his brow furrowed with guilt. "But she's safe, and she's going to say that way."

Avery studied his expression as she soaked in his response. She nodded silently, her worry unrelieved. He reached for her, wrapping his long arms around her and drawing her to him in a hug. She rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes.

"I talked to my mom." Spencer said at length. "How would you like to go out and meet her in person?"

* * *

A sudden jolt shook Avery from her thoughts. She glanced around the train car in surprise to see everyone else apparently unaffected. She looked down at her hands to find herself nervously tapping the edges of her mobile against her fingertips. Though completely disinterested in the time, she checked the clock, then returned to gazing out the window, as if hoping for a sign hidden somewhere on the horizon.

The waiting was the worst part.


	2. Three and a Half Weeks Ago

Avery wheeled her carry-on quietly through the apartment, parking it near the door. She straightened, taking a moment in the empty room to breathe in the silence and clear her head.

 _"Spencer needs me, so focus on that."_ She told herself. The past few days had been an odd combination of vulnerable honesty and undisclosed information.

Penelope was gone. Off, somewhere. Spencer knew, but couldn't say. His mother wasn't doing well, and Avery had the strong sense he had asked her to come more for his emotional support than to meet Diana.

The young doctor stood in the doorway, Avery's back to him across the room. He chewed the inside of his lower lip as he wrestled with himself. He wanted to tell her.

 _"Protective custody."_ He thought. Simple words, with so many much more complicated followup questions. _"Dirty Dozen... Assassins based in the dark net..."_ The answers wouldn't ease her worry. Far from it.

Avery rolled her shoulders, rocking her head back and forth in a motion she reserved for when she thought Spencer wasn't looking. He recognized it as her attempts to stave off the headaches which had become a common occurrence due to her last foray into the world of the BAU. He couldn't tell her, as much as he wanted to be honest with her. It would only pull her back into a world from which he only wanted to protect her.

"Ready to go?" He asked nonchalantly. Avery jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to meet him.

"Ready." She smiled.

* * *

Avery shifted in her seat, gathering her bag as the train began to slow. Her conversations with Spencer on their way to Las Vegas replayed in snippets in her head. Unimportant, but wonderful. Bright spots contrasted against the confusion and worry of the past weeks.

* * *

The Bennington Sanitarium was brighter and more welcoming than the word "sanitarium" suggested to Avery. Wide windows allowed the bright sunlight to warm the wood floors and book cases of one of the common rooms. The building felt more like an historic mansion than an institution.

 _"Of course."_ She thought to herself, squeezing Spencer's hand absent-mindedly. _"He wouldn't allow anything less for Diana."_

The orderly led them through hallways and common rooms, stopping outside the door of a private room.

"I'll go pull those records you asked for, Dr. Reid." She said, turning to leave.

"Thank you." Spencer nodded.

The orderly disappeared back down the hallway as Spencer remained rooted in place.

"Hey," Avery wrapped her hand around his arm and squeezed gently, breaking him from the mental spiral the topic of his mother always threw him into. "It's okay."

Spencer exhaled sharply, nodding slightly in response. He knocked on the door lightly before opening it.

"Mom?" Spencer announced his entrance as he pushed the door open. "Mom, it's me."

Avery hung back slightly as the woman she recognized from photos as Diana looked up from the book she was engrossed in.

Avery's heart stopped beating and jumped into her throat at the expression Diana fixed upon her son.

 _"Something's not right."_ Avery thought as the woman watched them, a mix of confusion and suspicion on her face for a terrible moment that seemed to last an eternity.

At last Diana shook her head, as if clearing a fog from her mind, and smiled.

"Spencer." She smiled warmly, rising to hug her son. "You made it."

"Hi, Mom." He said, hugging her. "How are you feeling?"

"Who is this?" Diana ignored the question, looking over Spencer's arm to where Avery stood.

"Uh, Mom," Spencer motioned Avery forward. "This is the woman I wrote you about. I want you to meet Avery Mitchell. Avery, this is my mother."

"It's nice to meet you." Avery held out her hand, which Diana refused to take. Instead, the older woman cocked her head to the side, studying Avery impassively.

"You're how I imagine Griselda looked." She said at length.

Avery smiled, chuckling awkwardly. "I can promise you I'm not half so passive. And Spencer could never be so cruel."

"You read Chaucer." Diana smiled.

"A bit." Avery replied.

"Eer wag your tongues like a windmill, I you advise." Diana quoted. The young woman smiled broadly with relief.

A soft knock on the door behind them caused Spencer to turn. The orderly who had shown them to Diana's suite stood holding a manilla folder.

"I have those files for you, Dr. Reid."

"You come with me." Diana took Avery's hand and led her to the cramped pair of chairs surrounded by careful temples of books as Spencer took the file from the orderly. "I want to show you what I'm reading. You'll enjoy it."

Avery settled into one of the chairs and listened to Diana intently, thinking as she spoke that she must have been a fascinating professor. As she listened, she could hear Spencer speaking in low tones with the orderly. She glanced back to them, the expression on his face crumbling her good mood.

 _"_ _Whatever it is,"_ she thought _"it's worse than he thought."_


	3. 3 Weeks Ago

"Tea?" Avery set a Styrofoam cup on the bedside table at Spencer's knee "They haven't got a kettle, but I suppose the coffee maker'll do in a pinch."

She sat next to him on the hotel bed, picking up the papers Diana's doctors had given him. She read through the test results again as Spencer sat silently, his head cradled in his hands.

Avery sighed, setting the papers aside and glancing at her motionless fiance.

"Sweetheart -"

"I'm okay." He interrupted hollowly.

"I know." She replied, nudging closer as she wrapped an arm lovingly around him and rested her cheek against his shoulder. "And you will be, for a while... while you talk to the doctors about tests and management options and try to enjoy our time here and distract yourself with facts and clinical terminology."

Spencer listened halfheartedly, staring between his fingers at the faded pattern in the hotel carpet. Avery chose her words carefully, trying to speak from her experience without diminishing him.

"But..." Avery continued slowly. "when that passes... and you're _not_ okay... I'll be here."

The pair sat in silence for a while, until Avery shifted her weight to get up. Spencer looked up.

"Avery-" His voice broke as he reached for her hand, holding it tightly. She settled in next to him again, her hand enclosed in his. The engagement ring on her finger pressed against his palm.

* * *

"Rise and shine, Angel." Geoffrey Mitchel's voice woke her. Avery blinked, sitting up on the couch she had fallen asleep on and looking around the sparse living room of her father's home.

"Morning cuppa." Geoffrey said, handing her a mug of strong tea before sitting down. "What time did you get in?"

"Late." Avery answered. "I didn't want to wake you."

"I was surprised when you called." Her father admitted. "Don't take this the wrong way, but how long are you plannin' to stay?"

Avery shrugged. "Couple of days, maybe?" She guessed, trying to sound casual "Is that okay?"

"Is everything alright, Ave?" Geoffrey arched an eyebrow critically. "That lad treatin' you right?"

"Dad -" Avery protested helplessly. Her father held up his free hand in concession.

"I just want to know you're okay." He said gently.

"I am." She replied quietly, looking down at her mug.

Geoffrey Mitchel studied his daughter, trying to read her. They had always been close, but emotional heart-to-hearts had been Pamela's strength.

 _"She would know what to do."_ he thought. _"She wouldn't have mentioned the boy."_

"It's not that I don't like him." He attempted lamely.

"Dad," Avery said again, looking at him pleadingly.

Sad, Geoffrey decided. And scared, maybe? Worried? Avery had always reminded him of Pamela; sensitive and emotionally open, though she had a healthy dose of her father's guarded, stiff-upper-lip mentality. Finding the middle ground with her had never been easy for him, and was impossible until she was ready to talk.

"Okay." He nodded. "How 'bout a fry-up, and then you and I go out. You remember those hikes I took you on when you were little?" He stood, disappearing around the corner into the kitchen, where Avery could hear him clattering through the pots and pans cupboard.

Avery breathed a sigh of relief, setting down her mug of tea and reaching for her phone, which she checked unsuccessfully for any new message. She chewed the inside of her lower lip, holding her phone, as if her proximity to it might will it to ring.

 _Please,_ she thought. _Please be okay._


	4. Not Married

"This is a list and the case files for all of her hits." Garcia reported, her fingers clacking away at the keyboard.

Reid leaned against the desk, scanning the list quickly, his mind furiously sorting through and organizing the information, discarding the irrelevant and highlighting the variations until..

"There's a pattern." He said. "Garcia, can you print this out for me? I need to talk to Hotch."

* * *

Spencer registered Avery's ring against his palm. His finger played lightly against the band on the underside of her finger.

"Marry me." He said simply.

"What?" Avery cocked her head, studying him in confusion.

"Today." Spencer turned, fixing his brown eyes on her. "Tomorrow. Next week, if you want to, but soon. While we're here." His hand tightened on hers. "Marry me."

Avery sat, stunned, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

"Spencer..." She said, once she had wrapped her mind around the proposal. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, you know that. But... you just got some very bad news, and I don't think you're thinking this through."

"It's fairly straight forward." Spencer countered. "We're planning to get married as is, we haven't set a date, it doesn't interrupt any plans -"

"Just... _think_ about what you're asking." Avery interrupted, standing. "Spencer, your mom was _just_ diagnosed with dementia. She's losing parts of herself and you feel that, too. You have to watch, not knowing if you'll go through the same thing, someday – that is _enough_ to deal with right now."

"And I _am_ dealing with it." The doctor protested, rising to meet her as she paced the floor.

"This is not dealing with it." Avery countered. "This... this is the exact opposite of dealing with it."

"So, what," He spat agitatedly "you think I think getting married will somehow undo all of this?"

"I might not have phrased it quite that way, but yes." Avery retorted defensively. "And I'm afraid you'll resent me when it doesn't."

"I would hope you'd give me credit for being more sensible than that." He would have seemed calm, except for the speed of his words. Avery bristled, recognizing the tone from past arguments.

"Under any other circumstance, I might." She snapped.

A vicious silence fell between them. Avery took a deep breath, concentrating on measuring her voice.

"Spencer, I love you." She said calmly, crossing the room and wrapping her arms around his waist. She looked up at him, deep concern etched into her features. "And when you've had time to process all of this, if you were to ask me, I would say yes in a heartbeat. But you need that time...Please don't ask me to be a band-aid so you can avoid this."

Spencer met her gaze. He swallowed and nodded slightly, pulling her to him in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry." He muttered into her hair.

"I love you." She repeated simply.

* * *

"It's our best strategy, but there is one flaw." Hotch looked seriously across his desk at the young agent. "You're not married."

"Don't worry about it." He assured them both. "Avery and I've been together a while, we live together, I can answer any she'd ask trying to throw me off."

"You don't have kids." J.J insisted, thinking critically about what the young agent was proposing.

"I can do this." Spencer told them earnestly. He looked from J.J to Hotchner "You said it yourself, Hotch, it's our best bet."

Aaron Hotchner exhaled sharply, then nodded. "Okay. Reid, you and Garcia make contact with Miss .45. Find out everything you can about her, and set up a meeting. We need to plan and execute this as tightly as possible. I don't want you or anyone else getting hurt."

Spencer Reid exited the room, Hotchner's words still echoing in his thoughts. He reached for his phone, staring at it as he thought over what he knew about the group of assassins, running through scenarios and weighing risks in his head. Finally, he dialed the number.

"Hi, Sweetheart." Avery answered cheerfully.

"Hi." Spencer replied calmly, jamming his free hand into his pocket as he talked. "What are you doing?"

"Unpacking." She answered. "Thought I'd run out later and pick up some groceries."

He could hear the sound of the wardrobe door opening and closing in the background.

"I need you to do something for me." He said.

"Sure." Avery responded slowly. The sound of her movement stopped. She was suspicious, he could tell. "What is it?"

"I want you to pack a bag and go to your dad's house for a few days." He said simply.

"Why? What's wrong?" She asked quickly

"Everything's fine -" Spencer started.

"No, it's not." Avery countered "What's happening, Spencer?"

"It's going to be okay," He said gently, his heart strings aching as he reassured her against the things he couldn't tell her. "I just... There's something that I have to do. To help Garcia. And... on the chance that anything happens... I'll call you when it's over."

"What are you doing?" Nerves gave her voice an edge. Spencer fought the guilt of making her worry with the knowledge he'd be keeping her safe in case the plan went wrong.

"I love you, Avery." He answered, ignoring the question.

There was a long, helpless silence.

"I love you, too." Avery replied earnestly.

Spencer took a deep breath, and ended the call.


	5. Waiting

"Breathe that fresh air." Geoffrey Mitchel heaved a breath as Avery joined him at the bend in the trail. The ground fell away below them and the trail cut along a narrow path on the edge of the drop, overlooking a vast expanse of wilderness.

"It's beautiful." She admitted. "Chilly, though."

"You remember those vacations we took to see yer Nan?" Her father's Manchester accent grew thicker as he reminisced. "When I'd take you walking up round the Peak district? You couldn't beat the views."

"No, you couldn't." She agreed.

"I used to take you climbing, you remember." He smiled, taking a seat on a fallen log. "Take all our gear out, be gone til past dark."

"Of course I remember." Avery smiled. "I used to love watching you set anchors. It was like art."

"You wanted me to teach you how to hold the rope." Geoffrey mused. "You were just a little thing... Yer mother was always worried you'd fall and get hurt."

"She didn't need to." Avery said, sitting next to her father and looking out over the landscape. "You kept me safe."

Geoffrey nodded. "To tell the truth, there were times I nearly had a heart attack. You were fearless. There were times you'd go for things grown men wouldn't try."

A silence fell between them.

"Why are you here, Avery?" Her father asked at last, glancing sidelong at his daughter.

Avery shook her head. "I don't know." She answered truthfully.

"Is everything alright?"

Avery shook her head again, sniffing. "I don't know."

There was more silence. Avery stared at her hands.

"Spencer asked me to marry him, Dad." She said at length, slipping her engagement ring off the ring finger of her right hand, where she had grown accustomed to wearing it in the presence of her father.

"In October." She continued, slipping the ring onto her left hand. "On our anniversary, he.. it was so romantic. Like something you'd read about. I didn't tell you, because..."

She trailed off. Geoffrey snorted in amusement.

"You don't think I knew that?" He asked, almost indignantly. Avery's eyes flashed in surprise. "I may just be your ol' dad, Avery Mitchel, but I do know what an engagement ring looks like, and it doesn't change much regardless of how you wear it."

"You never said anything." Avery countered blankly.

"Weren't none of my business." Geoffrey shrugged. "You're a grown woman, and I raised you, so I know you're no idiot. You love who you choose."

Avery stared at her father in shock and confusion.

"And let's just get this straight: Spencer's a good lad." He added. "But I'm yer father, and I'm goin' to worry. About yer happiness, and yer safety. I spent yer whole life raising you, I can't turn that off."

Avery's eyes welled. Geoffrey watched her.

"If you..." Avery took a breath. "If you knew, before you ever married mom – before you... ever started dating – before you even met, I don't know – that... everything that happened, would happen... would it have changed anything?"

Geoffrey nodded slowly.

"It would." He said. "I'd have swept her off her feet the minute I saw her, instead of lagging about and playing schoolboy games."

"Even if you knew how it would end?" Avery asked again.

"Everything ends, Angel." Geoffrey said. "That's the nature of this world. It's what you do before that, that matters."

Avery swallowed hard.

"Penelope left a few weeks ago, and nobody can tell me where she is, so I know it's not good. And Spencer's mom is sick and he's been avoiding it, and now he's off doing _God knows what_ because he won't tell me, but I know it's dangerous, and..." The words tumbled out of her almost faster than she could process them, her voice broken and filled with worry and frustration.

Her father said nothing. She sniffed, wiping her eyes and focusing intently on the horizon.

"When your mum was diagnosed," Geoffrey began, his voice measured, and his words carefully chosen. "I spent months waiting. Waiting to know... if the treatment was working... if her outlook improved... what we could do... if she would die, and if she would, how much more time would we have."

Avery listened, hugging her knees to her, not looking at the older man.

"The waiting hurts." He said. "But I never once thought of leaving her side."

"I don't know if I can handle whatever the outcome might be," Avery said. "But I know that right now, all I want is to hear his voice. To be with him."

In the crisp, clear light, as he looked at his daughter, Geoffrey Mitchel saw for the first time the woman his little girl had grown to be. She was silk, he thought; countless threads of spider silk glinting in the sun: delicate, but unimaginably strong.


	6. Connection

"Tell me about your wife."

The demand caught Spencer off guard and an image of Avery standing in their Las Vegas hotel room immediately flashed through his mind.

 _"Just... think about what you're asking."_ reverberated through his consciousness. It was hard not to think of Avery. Cat Adams was roughly the same height, with similar dark hair.

"If you don't mind, I'd, uh - I'd rather not talk about her." He said, refocusing his thoughts. He couldn't afford distraction.

* * *

"Don't you _dare_ touch that crossword puzzle!" Avery ordered from the kitchenette.

"I'll just get it started." Spencer teased, picking up the paper and making sure to rustle it loud enough for her to hear from the other room.

"Don't!" Avery burst in, running across the room in her pajamas and socked feet, making a grab for the paper over the edge of the couch. Spencer grinned and laughed, extending it just out of her reach.

"Spencer, I swear -" Avery threatened, laughing at the ridiculousness of the weekly Saturday battle. "If you do that crossword before I get a chance, I will never make you breakfast again!"

Spencer stopped, fixing her with a mockingly serious expression.

"You're bluffing." He goaded.

"Try me." She matched his tone and expression, leaning against the arm of the couch. She narrowed her eyes at him, trying not to smile. "Think real hard about this, Dr. Reid. The most important meal of the day is at stake."

Spencer arched an eyebrow, sliding his gaze from her to the Saturday puzzle.

"Nine letters "like your aunt's husband" -" He read

"No!" Avery sidestepped the arm of the couch and made a lung for the paper, losing her balance against Spencer's knee as he tried to evade her and falling into him with a thud.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, his amusement temporarily pushed aside. Avery rolled over, her back resting across his legs and shaking with laughter. Spencer laughed with her.

"Avuncular!" Avery choked out at last as she caught her breath. "You jerk."

"That would make sense." Spencer nodded, studying the puzzle. "Especially since one down is-"

"Oh, you are never getting breakfast again." Avery interrupted in exasperated amusement.

Spencer grinned.

* * *

"Kettle's on." Geoffrey's head popped around the corner, into the living room where Avery sat, an opened book in her lap. "Fancy a cuppa?"

"Thanks, Dad." She nodded. Geoffrey disappeared around the corner. Avery set the book aside, no longer pretending to read.

"Want company?" He asked as he brought a mug of hot tea to his daughter. Avery took it gratefully, thinking over the question.

"...No." She said kindly. "Not really. I might just head to bed."

"Right." Her father nodded briskly, straightening to leave. "Well, If you need me, then." He leaned over, kissing the crown of Avery's head. " 'Night, Angel."

"Night, Dad." She watched him disappear once again around the corner and listened to him shuffle down the hall toward his bedroom. Avery sipped carefully from the mug, turning over the idea of sequestering herself in her father's guestroom and trying to sleep. Tired as she was, though, the idea didn't appeal to her.

 _A bit longer._ She decided, drinking deeper of the tea and allowing her thoughts to wander.

* * *

Spencer watched Cat Adams as he fed her the narrative he had created, seeing how she soaked in the message. It was a plausible story. One he knew would resonate.

"I'm sorry." He offered sympathetically.

"You're not sorry." Cat, the black widow assassin known as Miss .45 dismissed him. "Sorry is what people say when they don't understand."

Spencer's brow furrowed. Cat cocked her head.

"Wait." She said. "Your mother. Tell me."

Spencer swallowed, trying to maintain a sense of control despite feeling completely cornered. He related the events of the past few weeks to her deliberately, giving her the details he knew she required, and thinking through each piece of information he offered.

"I thought I dodged a bullet when I turned 30 and didn't have a schizophrenic break like her, but.. uh-" The feelings he had kept pushed to the periphery of his thoughts found words as he spoke. "This is somehow bigger and scarier, because I can actually see it happening. All those memories that we used to share are just... dying. I can't stop it. I can't help her."

The words came uncomfortably, he squirmed inside, knowing everyone listening in now knew. The feelings that had been pushing in at the periphery of mind had found words he had been prepared to neither speak or hear. He struggled against the vulnerability, wanting to remain strong and focused. He looked at the woman sitting across the table from him, a thought dawning on him. His confession had weakened him in her eyes, but it had formed a connection. Tenuous, but present, and it gave him an edge.


	7. Just Before Daybreak

Spencer sat on the swing at the empty playground until his teeth began to chatter and his arms tensed from the chill. His mind had been turning cartwheels, the events of the past three weeks only now sinking in.

 _"In twenty years, I'll remember your name, but you won't remember mine."_

Cat Adams' words had their intended effect. They had struck him deeply, changing everything about how he saw his future.

A breeze ruffled his hair and he shrugged, trying to keep the cold off the back of his neck. He reached for his phone and glanced at the time. With a few deft movements, he found Avery's number. He stared at the display until the screen fell asleep and blacked itself out. Spencer sighed, rising from the swing and tucking the phone back into his pocket.

* * *

The way Avery looked the last time he had seen her, illuminated in the early morning light, sleeping soundly while he dressed for work, stuck in Spencer's mind as he stood on the front step of Geoffrey Mitchel's home, fidgeting. He slipped his hands into his pockets, then took them out again, flattening his tie and straightening his jacket. He brushed a stray curl from his face and thought again about the hour. It would be dawn, soon. Perhaps he should wait til morning.

At last, he took a deep breath, licked his lips, and reached out, rapping on the door lightly.

Almost immediately, it flew open and Avery threw her arms around him. He held her tightly to him.

"Thank God." Waves of relief washed over them both. "Penelope called hours ago." She laughed weakly. "She was very drunk."

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you." Spencer began, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, his cheek pressed against her hair.

"It's over." She insisted, letting the feeling of being near him again wash away the past three days.

They stood in the open doorway, clinging to one another tightly. Spencer swallowed.

"I'm not okay." He admitted quietly after a long silence, his voice shaking.

"... I know." Avery muttered reassuringly.

"I'm scared." Spencer continued. "And I feel... betrayed. And abandoned. I thought I knew what to expect, and now..."

"I know." Avery repeated, tightening her embrace.

"You were right." He said. "I wanted to avoid it."

He took a deep breath, giving voice to the fears he had been processing half the night.

"Avery, I don't know what my mind will be like in twenty – thirty years. I can't promise you won't have to watch me... lose myself; lose all of those parts of us."

"I don't care about that." Avery shook her head, raising her face to him. "I don't care how it ends - I'm not going anywhere."

He looked down at her, taking in her response. He licked his lips.

"I want to marry you." Spencer told her earnestly. "And - and I don't want to wait. Y – you said if I asked you again after I'd had some time -"

"Yes." She interjected, watching him intently. "Yes. Today, tomorrow, next week – I don't care." She smiled "I want to marry you."

Spencer grinned, his brown eyes alight.

* * *

Dawn broke over the treetops outside the window. Early rays of pink and gold flooded through the gap in the guestroom curtains. Spencer stirred, opening his eyes blearily as the daylight reached his face. Dully aware of the fact it was morning and that he was still expected to be in to work, he rolled over. Avery lay sleeping peacefully, her face toward him. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Wrapping an arm around her and kissing her forehead gently, he closed his eyes, drifting back to sleep.


	8. Two Weeks Later

_Author's note: I listened to the song I Will Wait by Paradigm quite a bit while thinking about how to write this chapter up. I recommend it - might be a fun listen._ _watch?v=aqIEbgDHVM0_

* * *

Spencer stood in front of the mirror, flattening his suit jacket against his chest and straightening his tie, studying his appearance nervously and then repeating the process.

A knock on the door startled him and he turned to see Derek Morgan enter the room.

"How you doin'?" Morgan asked, noting the young doctor standing exactly as he had left him ten minutes ago.

"Fine. Fine..." Spencer swallowed, this throat dry. "No, I'm – I'm good. I'm fine."

"You sure?" Morgan asked, raising his eyebrows.

Spencer nodded, once again pressing the buttons of his suit flat against him. Morgan stifled a smirk.

"Your mom's downstairs." He told Spencer. "Everyone's here."

Spencer Reid took a breath, opening his mouth to say something when another knock on the door interrupted them.

"Excuse me." A thick Manchester accent broke into the conversation as Geoffrey Mitchell stepped into the room. He glanced between them before turning to Morgan. "Could you give us a moment?"

"Sure." Derek nodded "I'll go check on the girls." He flashed Reid an encouraging look before stepping out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Mr. Mitchell -"

Avery's father raised his hand slightly, silencing the agent. "I, uh... look, I know... I'm a bit old fashioned, myself... Can't say I liked that Avery didn't tell me you were engaged, but, uh... Well, I haven't always treated you..." He cleared his throat. "But you love her, that's obvious, and... all things considered, you're good together..."

"Mr. Mitchel -" Spencer interjected gently.

"It's Geoffrey." He corrected gruffly.

Spencer stood, quietly and graciously regarding the aging man.

"Thank you." He said simply.

Geoffrey regarded him in turn, his eyes shining.

"Pamela would have loved you." He said at length. He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket. "And she'd have wanted you to have this..."

* * *

"Knock knock." Derek rapped on the door, opening it slightly.

"Girls only!" Penelope pushed the door shut firmly against him. "Out, out now!"

"Easy, Mama," Derek protested. "it's just me."

"Nope. No boys allowed." Garcia declared. "Bad luck!"

"It's only bad luck for the bride and groom." Derek argued, calling over Garcia's shoulder "Avery, little help?"

"I would, but I'm in full agreement with her." Avery called back, keeping herself well out of sight-line of the door. "We've had enough close calls, I'm embracing a little superstition."

Derek rolled his eyes, grinning.

"Yeah, well, everyone's here." He informed them good-naturedly.

"We'll be ready in five." Avery replied. "Meet you down there."

Garcia shut the door, joining Avery where she stood in front of the mirror, fidgeting nervously as she studied her reflection.

"You look perfect." Penelope squeezed her friends' shoulders encouragingly. "You ready?"

Avery drew a shaky breath, her face flushed. She nodded.

* * *

The chapel was small, well-lit with obligatory stained glass, but otherwise sparse. It was clean and convenient, and more importantly, available on short notice.

Spencer placed himself at the end of the aisle, Derek, Hotch, and Rossi standing nearby, and his mother sitting in one of the narrow pews. He swallowed hard.

The doors opened at the end of the chapel and JJ entered, followed closely by Garcia.

Spencer grinned as JJ swept him up in a sisterly hug.

"Congratulations." She said, smiling at him as she took her place on the opposite side of the aisle.

* * *

"You know, there's still time to call it off." Geoffrey muttered, taking his daughter's arm. "I can hold 'em off. You make a run for it."

He smiled as his joke landed and Avery shook her head, chuckling.

"They're half your age and armed." She smiled back. "You're outmatched, old man."

"You look beautiful." Geoffrey said admiringly. "Ready, Angel?"

Spencer's heart stood still at the sight of his bride moving down the aisle, in a simple, pale orange cotton sundress. The color played against her dark hair and made her skin luminous.

She beamed at him as she drew closer, stopping at the end of the aisle next to him. A glint on his chest caught her eye, and her brows furrowed in surprise.

"That tie pin." She said. "Dad, that's-"

"Your mother gave that to me the day we were married." Geoffrey nodded. "She'd want it to go to Spencer."

Avery's eyes glistened, and she hugged her father hard.

"I love you, Angel." He said, sniffing stoically, letting her go and taking his place next to Diana in the pew.

* * *

 _some months back_

 _"Do you want a big wedding?" Spencer traced lazy circles along Avery's back with his finger as she trailed gentle kisses along his collarbone._

 _"I don't know..." She admitted, looking up at him and snuggling against his side. "I guess I've never really thought about it."_

 _"You've never thought about your wedding?" He asked in a mild tone of surprise as he tugged the bed sheet up and tucked it tighter around them._

 _"Not really, no..." She mused, toying with the engagement ring on her finger. "why, have you?"_

 _"I guess not..." He confessed, thinking the question over "I mean... I don't know, I guess I'd want our parents there..."_

 _"Our friends-" Avery added thoughtfully._

 _"-The team." Spencer nodded._

 _Avery rolled, balancing herself against his chest._

 _"We could get married," she said, her thoughts punctuated as she resumed the trail of kisses up his neck. "on a Tuesday afternoon... in front of a food truck." She reached his jaw, shifting so their eyes met. "As long as we spend our lives together."_

 _Spencer smiled, weaving his fingertips through the hair that fell around her face._

 _"You deserve more than a Tuesday afternoon and a food truck." He told her seriously._

* * *

A thought dawned on Spencer as he stood in his blue suit, facing Avery in the chapel.

"It's not fancy..." He said sheepishly. "But it's not Tuesday."

Avery's laugh let Spencer know she had been reliving the same moment.

"No, it's not." Her smile broadened.

Time stopped. The world held its breath. Pain, sorrow, suffering, and evil all, for fifteen minutes, paused. Avery barely heard the words of the chaplain. Spencer saw nothing but the woman standing in front of him smiling. For one quarter of an hour, the world belonged solely to love, and the promise of a future together, stretching out into forever.

There were no wedding bells, and no rice to throw. There was no limousine or wedding photographer, and no fancy hall. Only a crowded table at a local restaurant, a handful of family and close friends, and a jukebox playing a first dance. As Spencer held Avery to him, her head resting against his chest as it had so many times before as they danced, he tried to find the words to articulate the day; the words that would capture and distill the feeling swelling within him. Failing in his attempt, he closed his eyes, smiling as he hugged his wife closer to him.

* * *

 _"_ _When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it-always." - Mahatma Gandhi_


	9. Epilogue

The Las Vegas lights lit up the night outside the hotel room where Avery stood on the balcony, looking over the skyline. The night was warm and dry, punctuated occasionally by a gentle breeze.

"Champagne?"

She turned as Spencer joined her on the balcony, handing her a bubbling glass.

"Rossi sent it up." He said.

She took the glass, raising it slightly before balancing it on the railing. She watched the bubbles, clinging to the inside of the glass, breaking free and rising to the top where they fizzed and popped erratically.

"Everything okay?" Spencer asked, leaning against the railing beside her.

She looked up at him, studying the face of her husband, illuminated by the lights of the city. He still wore his blue suit, and she her orange dress. The light caught in his angles and the curls of his hair.

"Yeah." Avery replied at length. She took his hand. "Dance with me."

"There's no music." Spencer protested, taking her in his arms anyway.

"Doesn't matter." She told him. "I like when you dance with me."

They stood there a moment, not moving.

"Spencer..." Avery said finally. "I've something to tell you."

"If you're already married, that's... really going to complicate things." Spencer deadpanned.

Avery grinned, chuckling as she leaned into him and whispered in his ear.

Spencer stood, momentarily frozen. Avery pulled away, studying his face as he looked at her, reading her features for any sign that she might be joking.

"You..." He began, his words failing.

Avery nodded.

"Wh-when – when did you find out?" He stammered.

Avery took a breath. "Um..." She thought back. "Five... six weeks ago, now?"

"So you're -"

"About ten weeks, yeah." Avery nodded, smiling. "I kept wanting to tell you, but... with everything going on...the timing never felt right."

Spencer opened his mouth, then closed it again, wrapping his head around the news.

"I didn't notice -" he began.

"That doesn't matter." Avery shook her head, grinning broadly as she stifled a laugh.

"I love you." He told her seriously, a wide smile spreading across his face. "I love you."

He pressed his lips to hers as his arms tightened around her, holding close a future that, to him, shone brighter than the Las Vegas skyline.


End file.
